Moods
by KristieConspiracy
Summary: Blaise would never admit that he had a soft spot for the eccentric Ravenclaw, but that didn't change the facts. Written for ifyouknew's Dialogue Prompt Challenge. Blaise/Luna.


**Challenge: **ifyouknew's _the Dialogue Prompt Challenge_, on HPFC

**Characters: **Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood

**Prompt: 9. **"Erm, wow, I didn't think that you would, well, uh, um, do something like that."  
33. "Why are you so moody?"  
"Excuse me for not being particularly excited about being stuck here with you."

**Word count: **1,177

**A/N: **I'd like to stress the that I don't like the Blaise/Luna pairing. This was an interesting concept to work with, though. Just one other thing; this is set in a slightly different version of the Slug Club Christmas party in HBP, where Luna and Blaise get locked in a cupboard together when the party ends.

* * *

"Oh, Merlin's pants, woman! Stop that infernal crashing. No one is coming! Certainly not to this part of the castle, this late at night."

She didn't react at all, unless the light from his wand tip dancing off of her near-white hair counted as a reaction. Unfortunately for her, Blaise Zabini was not the sort to simply allow people to ignore him. Even if they _were_ blood-traitor filth.

He supposed that she might not have heard him over the racket she was making, beating her fists against the heavy wooden door. Except, of course, that she was a bloody _Ravenclaw_. Quick of wit, observant, clever: no _way_ had she not heard him, since he'd been yelling.

And then, just like that, it stopped. He tilted his head back in relief, carefully keeping it from slamming against the cold stone wall. His headache was already bad enough, in his opinion. "_Finally_," he snapped, "it's about time you came to -"

"Perhaps I could try burning it."

"No!" He was on his feet in an instant, grabbing her wrist to prevent her from removing her wand from behind her ear. "_No_, Lovegood, let's _not_ try that. I don't fancy burning alive. Why are you so moody?"

"Excuse _me_ for not being particularly excited about being stuck here with _you_."

He cringed at the harshness of her tone. Maybe he wasn't the kindest person in the school, but he couldn't believe that he'd done some injustice major enough to cause her tone to lose its' dreamy quality, at least not to her. He decided he didn't like it. "Look, Lovegood, whatever I did, it wasn't personal."

She yanked her arm out of his grip, showing surprising strength. _She could be a beater_, he realised distractedly, flinching again when he heard her back _thump_ against the wall - the closet was weirdly large, or the room strangely small, but regardless, it wasn't large enough. It was maybe six feet long and four feet wide - it would only take one good stride for the Slytherin to have the Ravenclaw pinned against the wall, but he didn't move. He was too shocked by her outburst.

"Don't _touch_ me, you evil pureblood!"

A wounded expression clouded his features as he stepped back against the wall on his side of their prison, which suddenly seemed suffocatingly small. Embarrassingly, his voice cracked slightly when he smoke. "What?"

"You don't even know, do you? You don't even _remember_ her!"

"Who?"

"Lisa!"

He frowned, completely clueless. He could guess that this person was a Ravenclaw, someone Lovegood cared about, but that was it.

She seemed to realise that he didn't understand her, and took it upon herself to clarify. "Lisa Turpin, in your year. First Hogsmeade visit. Hazel eyes, almost green auburn ringleted hair, lovely and short, only about so high."

He blinked, squinting in the dim wand-light to see her height - up to about Lovegood's armpit. And if this was three years ago, in his third year... "Oh! Turnip Turpin!"

Too late, he realised his mistake: the ditsy witch had her wand aimed at him. _Again_.

"No, don't -"

"Mimble wimble!"

He emitted a garbled groaning noise, not unlike the inane chattering of common garden gnomes. The indignity of the situation had not gone unnoticed by him.

"Impedimenta! Oppugno!"

Blaise let out a strangled yell raising his hands to protect his face from the fragments of the jar that she had shattered. Next moment, his awareness was obscured by pain, the agony of dozens of tiny shards stabbing into his flesh. It consumed him, to the point that he was unaware of his own body as it fell, crashing to the floor.

She was at his side in an instant, her features alight with horrified dread. "Zabini I didn't mean - why didn't you stop me? Finite!"

The stabbing ceased, the shards clattering to the ground around her knees. He wasn't paying attention, absorbed in his own painful humiliation, but that was fine with her. She didn't need his attention to help her heal the cuts that peppered his dark forearms between the black sleeves of his dress robes. She was fretting, his blood glittering hypnotically on her silver robes. "Blaise Zabini, sweet Merlin, _why_ would you let me jinx you like that?"

"Well, erm," he managed, stuttering only because of the after-effects of her tongue-tying curse. At least, that was what he told himself. "Wow. I didn't think you would, well, uh, um, do something like that. You're just - you always seemed soft, soft-spoken and kind and a bit of a Hufflepuff, really. I - I didn't think you would."

"Oh," she said, her voice surprised - pleasantly so, in the opinion of the wizard she had hexed. Better she be surprised than vicious. "You think I'm kind?"

Not seeing a way out of admitting to the honest admission that wouldn't get him hexed, he nodded. "Why do you think you've never been assaulted, like Potter? You've got some kind of guardian."

She blinked her silvery eyes, like twin moons in the dimly lit room, and nodded slowly. "I see."

The two sat in silence for a while, him leaning on an elbow on the floor, her sitting with her legs crossed in front of him, not unlike a child. He deliberated for a long while before breaking the silence.

"Lovegood - Luna?"

"Yes?"

"What happened to the Turpin girl?"

His dark, slanted eyes met her wide silver ones. "Lisa got attacked by a group of Slytherins on her first Hogsmeade visit. They used hexes she hadn't learned in classes or read about. She mentioned you by name when Professor Flitwick asked who did it, but as there was no proof, you weren't punished."

"I never attacked anyone."

"Of course you didn't," she affirmed, her tone sceptical. He propped himself up further, shaking his head.

"No, really. Luna, I never get involved in the stupid, pointless games that fanatics like Mallfoy start. I won't risk myself like that." He wasn't certain why it was important that the fourth-year understood his innocence, but he pushed the matter for several minutes. Only after reiterating with a completely different choice of words for the third time did he shut up, and even then it was only because of the hand she placed over his mouth.

"I'm in Ravenclaw, Blaise," she reminded him, her tone wistful and soft. "And I'm on the outside look in. I understand, I do. Really. Honestly, just because I came to this silly party, doesn't mean that I'm daft."

He blinked, thin lips stretching into a broad smile, his teeth gleaming white against his dark skin. "You sure about that, Lovegood? Slughorn might be contagious."

"Oh, don't be mean. Professor Slughorn is a perfect gentleman."

"He locked you in a magic-proof cupboard, Luna."

"It's his cupboard, not his fault," Luna corrected, "but I think the Nargles did this."

He didn't mind the insanity of her response. She was laughing with him, like he'd desired for ages, and that was all he wanted.


End file.
